Metal Heart
by Athene18
Summary: What if the inside was evident without? What if whatever was felt in the innermost heart had its physical manifestation implanted in the skin? For the four who were in the crystal chamber, they’re about to find out…
1. And Therefore Nobody Dies

Metal Heart

Chapter I: And Therefore Nobody Dies

She walked, rather pushing her legs forward than picking them up, with one shoulder pushed up higher than the other and a hard limp. Her arms hung, by her side with no effort to their sway, no womanly sweep in her rock as she walked, mindless, drone, to where it called her. Lurching, following blindly the path of an indeniable thing, which even now would not let her go, and so she went where it commanded, as it commanded, with no heed to her passing. No one bothered her in her trek, although she was not hidden. It was night in the city, true, but anyone just looking out the window could have seen her passage. She walked right down the middle of the street in a straight line, swaying, stumbling, leering from side to side, but headed straight nonetheless. _It_ made sure no one saw her. It did not want her stopped. Not even her own body would stop her, It made sure. She pushed along, numb, and so having difficulty, but feeling none of it. She went, invalid slow, with limbs not meant to move; with a cold pallor Nature never intended. Stairs. Damn there were stairs. But her mind paid no attention to the inconvenience of stairs, nor did It. It simply called her, and she raised a foot, and set it down. Pushed up, wavered, stood on the next step. Again, raising a foot. Not always did she make it in one go to the next step. But she was insensible of it, and so went again and by degrees reached the door.

Her hand rose at the door, and fell lightly against it. Through effort she was able to move her own body, but it posed very little potential to exert any force on another object. The door whispered more than tapped. Again she lifted her hand, crunched it into a loose fist, and let it drop against the door. Slightly more sound this time. A noise from the other side or the door.

He opened it. For a moment he just stood with his jaw open staring at her, saying nothing. She stood in the light of the blue non-day, head to the side, shoulder down, legs…well what could be said of them? Eyes blank as the voice of the call.

"I thought you were dead," he said.

"I am," she said.

I wish I had a metal heart  
I could cross the line  
I wish that I was half as good  
As you think I am

But now that we know for sure they're telling lies when they say  
No one gets hurt and therefore nobody dies  
You know it's hard to believe anything that you hear  
They say the world is round

Wish I was as big as you  
You'd have to tell the truth  
I'd be nothing you could hurt  
Nothing you could use

But now that we know for sure they're telling lies when they say  
No one gets hurt and therefore nobody dies  
You know it's hard to believe anything that you hear  
They say the world is round  
The world is round?

I want to be dependable, I want to be courageous and good  
I want to be faithful so that I can be heroic and true  
I want to be a friend you can rely on you can lean on and trust  
I want to understand so I can forgive and be willing to love

I wish I wasn't flesh and blood  
I would not be scared  
Of bullets built with me in mind  
For then I could be saved

My sweet lord take care of me for I think I'm done  
Kiss my mother on her cheek and lay my burden down

But now that we know for sure they're telling lies when they say  
No one gets hurt and therefore nobody dies  
You know it's hard to believe anything that you hear  
They say the world is round  
The world is round

--"Metal Heart" by Garbage


	2. You Know It's Hard To Believe

Chapter II: You Know It's Hard To Believe

Milo stood with two hands braced on the doorframe for support. Now way could this be happening, he had seen her thrown…he had seen her die...There was no way she could be here; yet here she was. He blinked. She was dead. But - was that really a hindrance to her being here? He looked her over, even as cold rolled in his stomach. At least she looked…fresh.

She looked dead, even though she was up and moving. Mercifully, for him, or for her, none of the vermin known to accompany the dead attended her. For a moment Milo had been so certain he would see maggots crawling twisted in her hair that he did see them until his vision cleared and there she stood clean. Her hair hung straight in fine curtains over her face, shoulders and back, giving her a shaded, patchy look. Its ends were singed an unfortunately pretty brown on up, but at their tips were blackened and dry. It was the only part of her that had any color. The rest of her rich blond hair had turned an almost translucent gold, her skin was white. Any little bit of color she had ever seemed to have had drained, not as if it had faded, but as if it had seeped out completely, and not even should she be cut open would any show, but a spilling of cold grey organs, clammy and moist.

The tank top, with its forever loose straps come down now free of her shoulders, was ripped across the stomach and burned at the edge. He saw her left arm hung low and twisted at the shoulder, as if dislocated. The elbow bent backward, broken he supposed. Alabaster skin was so smooth in the night with only here and there blue broken places which Milo realized after staring at the shredded mouth of one for a long while were cuts. As a light breeze blew up, he saw the peels of flesh from the deep one on her stomach below the rip in her shirt. Her legs were defying every natural law he could bring to mind merly holding her up, much less having brought her all this way. Milo brought a hand to his mouth as he thought of those dead, twisted _things_ carrying her over mounds of volcanic ash and rock, across the long bridge and all through the city. How had nobody _seen_ her? The legs made him sick. Attached to a pelvis strangely bent and twisted to the right, so that the upper and lower body were off center of each other, the right hip was fused and unbending, this leg bore all the weight. The knee wrenched in opposite of the pelvis to rub against the inside of the other leg. Milo wondered for a moment and tried to remember if this perhaps had been the leg Rourke had so viciously twisted and held as he threw her. One look at the torn mess that attached below the ruined knee of the left leg told him it was not. He rubbed his eyes below his glasses, covering his mouth with his hand as he thought. He brought his eyes back up to hers.

"Hi." She gave no sign that she had heard him. Her dark green eyes which had been so sharp and rich in color were bloodless and clouded. As he watched she reached slowly around her front and wrapped her hand around her broken elbow. Her breast pushed up, and Milo thought a few weeks ago she would have been very provocative in this position. She did not move again. He passed a furtive hand in front of her face once, twice. Two inches from her nose he waved rapidly.

"Ack!" he mocked, throwing up both hands, "It's you!" He tried a smile. Nothing. She was not even seeing him. Milo frowned. All thoughts of the irregularity of the situation left him. He lifted up his hands, taking her face gently into them, moving closer. He could feel his own breath bounce back at him off her face. There was no trace of her breathing, her skin was very cold. Two inches from her face he held her up to himself and called to her. He snapped his fingers, spoke her name, even sung a few bars of a popular song. Nothing. The vague eyes could not focus. Milo dropped his hands and stepped back, suddenly very afraid for this poor wretch who stood holding her own shattered arm.

"C'mon, Helga. You can come inside."


End file.
